


Heart and Soul Harmonies

by petyrbaealish



Series: Every Heart Sings a Song [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyrbaealish/pseuds/petyrbaealish
Summary: A series of requested snippets for Heart and Soul, from tumblr. Featuring mainly POVs from Olenna and Varys, but there's a Sansa one too. And others might be included, if they're requested.Updated infrequently.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Could you please tell us how Olenna reacted to hearing that Petyr was sick, since you didn't put that part in from her PoV in Heart and Soul?  
> — Anonymous
> 
> A brief text message exchange that is set in chapter 37 of Heart and Soul

Sansa: Petyr just stopped by and he seems really sick. Not sure what to do.

Olenna: Wasn’t he fine just this morning?

Sansa: Yes, but he’s definitely not now….

Olenna: Alright, I’ve got a winning hand here, but I’ll come home if you think it’s necessary.

Sansa: I do. Varys said he’ll come pick you up.

Olenna: If he’s conscious, let him know he’s going to owe me what I might have won tonight. 

Olenna: It’s not bad enough that you think he needs to go to the hospital, is it?

Sansa: It might be.

Olenna: Tell Varys to get his ass moving. And that if he insists on driving like an old lady on his way over, I’d be happy to break the stereotype.

Olenna: I know how long it takes to get here. The timer starts now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this anon ask from tumblr: "What were Varys' thoughts when Petyr fell into the house and was discovered to be sick - and further being taken to the hospital? (Heart and Soul snippet)"
> 
> Set just after chapter 37 in Heart and Soul, and through Petyr's diagnosis at the hospital. Varys' POV

Varys got into his car and turned the key in the ignition. He just sat there for a moment, listening to the engine purr to life, and letting the noise drown out the worry that was threatening to pull him under. It wasn’t enough, so he switched on the radio, finding his foremost rival’s show easily enough and letting the fool prattle on about topics that were subpar at best in comparison to Varys’ content on the ‘Web.’ 

Normally this would have cheered him up but the lift in his spirits as he heard his rival spout off a fact that Varys knew with absolute certainty to be wrong was minimal. Sighing, and knowing he certainly didn’t want Olenna following through with her threat to take over the driver’s seat once he picked her up, he put the car in reverse and backed out of the space.

He wasn’t sure why he was so bothered. So Petyr was sick, it probably wasn’t anything life-threatening. And yet….

And yet he knew his brother. Petyr wasn’t one to make a big fuss about being sick. Normally he kept working and carrying on as normal, regardless of how he felt. Varys had even known Petyr to spend half the night sick from food poisoning and then head straight to work despite the fact that he couldn’t keep anything down and wound up vomiting in his office trash can more than once (Varys didn’t envy the cleaning staff that day). Of course Petyr hadn’t told Varys this, but Varys had heard it through the grapevine anyway- he kept tabs on everyone, from family, to the hottest sources of gossip, to the seemingly mundane who offered him the juiciest tips due to their close proximity to VIPs. Though, of course, he never pried  _ too _ far into his family’s lives, and never shared anything about them without their express permission. Nor did he share any gossip that might potentially harm someone who didn’t deserve it.

Varys might have been the foremost gossip in the city, but even he had his limits. He wasn’t heartless, after all.

Regardless, Varys didn’t think he’d ever seen Petyr so sick before (excepting the time Ned Stark had nearly killed Petyr, years ago). Not only had his brother struggled just to make it into the apartment, he’d seemed too feeble even to protest when Sansa began to worry over him, which wasn’t a good sign. Petyr never liked to admit he was sick, partly because he always had so much he planned to do, and partly because he hated going to the doctor. 

So Varys supposed he did have cause for worry after all. At least judging by what he’d seen thus far. But he hoped he was wrong. Perhaps it was all just some elaborate joke. And he’d pick up Olenna and come back only to find Petyr was perfectly fine.

Somehow he didn’t think that would be the case though. For one thing, Olenna would probably tie Petyr to the chair and force him to watch her insufferable soap operas in retaliation. 

Varys shuddered at the thought. 

No, even Petyr wouldn’t risk that, and he’d always been slightly masochistic (for one thing, he’d clearly fallen in love with Sansa, who, while sweet, was the daughter of two of the people that had basically destroyed his life. For another, Varys considered all romantic entanglements slightly masochistic. The pain wasn’t worth it to him, even if he was interested in such pursuits, which he wasn’t). 

So it was highly likely that whatever was wrong with Petyr was genuine, and bad enough (Varys wasn’t a doctor, but a normally healthy man getting breathless just from walking a few steps was certainly cause for concern) that he might have to go to the hospital. Which meant that they were in for a long night. Even as sick as Petyr was, Varys was certain his brother wouldn’t go without a fight. They’d probably have to drag him kicking and screaming (at least until he ran out of breath and passed out).

But it would be worth it, if they could get him checked out. Varys might have had his differences with his brother, but really, he wasn’t about to let the idiot die just because he stubbornly refused to admit that he was sick or that it was necessary to go to the doctor.

 

* * *

 

Varys awoke the next morning after a fairly sleepless night of which (he’d never admit this to anyone, not even himself) anxiety about Petyr’s illness had been the sole cause. His heart sank when Olenna stopped by his room and informed him that Petyr was worse and that they were taking him to the emergency room, but Varys cheered slightly that Petyr had at least agreed to go. Though it was short lived when he realized that, for Petyr to agree to go, he must have truly felt awful.

Hastening to finish his morning routine, Varys put in a quick call to work to inform them that he might be late, then helped get Petyr into the car and drove everyone to the hospital. The ride over was tense but quiet, and Varys was grateful that, for awhile at least, he had no need to keep up the pretense and bicker with Petyr as they were usually wont to do. Anything he’d said so far had been halfhearted at best, and Varys misliked being so openly genuine with his brother- that simply wasn’t how they operated. 

Varys chose not to join Petyr when he was ready to be seen, though Olenna and Sansa tagged along, reluctant to leave him alone in such a pitiful state. They weren’t gone long before Olenna sought Varys out in the waiting room and beckoned him to follow her. He hastily set aside the magazine he’d been flipping through to distract himself (several years old and amusing to peruse, to say the least. My how much had changed for so many, in so little time) and stood, matching Olenna’s brisk pace.

Obviously, she wasn’t there to impart good news….

“He’s being admitted,” Olenna told him. “He’s in the lab right now, getting blood drawn, and then he’ll be getting an x-ray of his lungs. They think it’s pneumonia.”

“In summer?” Varys asked. Of all the luck…. Likely, Petyr had gotten it from one of the Stark children, unknown carriers of the culprit. Kids, even teenagers, were almost always rife with bacteria, their daily habits not up to standards in terms of cleanliness. Particularly males. And Sansa had three brothers.

Olenna didn’t answer, and Varys let them lapse into silence. Pneumonia wasn’t too bad. Not in this day and age anyway. Petyr was generally very healthy. In all likelihood he’d pull through this just fine.

Varys kept telling himself this as Petyr went through all of the necessary steps for admittance to the hospital, then got settled in his newly assigned room. He’d almost begun to believe his silent mantra when Dr. Luwin arrived and informed them that it wasn’t, in fact, pneumonia, but Legionnaires’ Disease. Which had a record of one in ten cases leading to fatalities. 

Of all the maladies Petyr could have gotten, he had to go and get himself sick with a rare and deadly (even now, with modern medicine!) form of pneumonia. And now Varys didn’t even feel right about japing with Petyr, each time he ventured to speak a familiar pang warning him not to, just in case. Just in case Petyr was soon to be part of the ten percent who succumbed.

Varys chose to leave earlier than he needed to, unable to take being in the room anymore. He felt stifled, like it was he who couldn’t breathe properly, and not his brother. It had been easier, when Petyr had been half asleep, to talk as if everything was fine, but Varys had felt guilt where usually none was present, whenever he tried to keep up his normal rapport with his brother. To poke fun at someone who might die, didn’t seem right.

But Petyr wouldn’t die. Varys refused to entertain that idea, though it nagged at him all the same. Petyr had probably put the idea up to it, just to spite him. The prick  _ had _ laughed earlier when Olenna had expressed her displeasure with her cane on Varys’ toe (it still smarted. Sometimes she used more force than she meant to. And anyway, he’d deserved it, for once). And Petyr had also done his best to rag on Varys when he could (rather pathetic attempts, but Varys appreciated the effort all the same). So, if he was capable, Petyr would certainly enjoying spiting Varys in such a manner. 

Oh yes, his brother was definitely a prick, but the one thing Varys would never forgive Petyr for was that which Varys feared most in that moment. His brother had been lucky, once. Varys only hoped that Petyr would be so lucky again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first attempt at Varys' POV, so when I posted it on tumblr, I included this note: "Alright, I did my best. Sorry if the characterization is inconsistent, I’ve never written from Varys’ perspective before (and haven’t written too much dialogue yet for him either so I am not used to his voice) so this was a learning experience. He probably mainly just sounds like Petyr lol. Hope you like it!"
> 
> Heart and Soul will be updated next Saturday :). Until then, I hope you enjoyed this extra glimpse :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this ask from tumblr:
> 
> "What were Sansa's thoughts when the news came in that Petyr could have got sick from the holiday and subsequently there being a 1 in 10 chances of him not making it? (H&S snippet!) :)"
> 
> Sansa's POV from Chapter 39 of Heart and Soul.

"Fatalities do occur in one out of ten cases, but I am fairly confident you'll pull through this just fine. Luckily your family took you in as soon as they did, " said Dr. Luwin.

Luwin continued to talk, but Sansa barely heard anything past the first word Dr. Luwin had said, its meaning piercing straight through her heart. Fatalities. Surely she'd heard wrong?

But no, the looks on Olenna and Varys' faces said differently.

Sansa's grip tightened on Petyr's hand.

Oh gods....

She felt her throat constrict, the thoughts swirling around in her mind making her feel dizzy. A one in ten chance that Petyr might actually die. Ten percent versus a ninety percent chance of survival. Not too high, and yet....

And yet ten percent still felt like far too large a number.

What if she lost him? What would she do?

She couldn't even bear to think of it, and yet the questions haunted her all the same, nagging her insistently, begging to be answered.

No, she wouldn't answer them. Ever.

She wasn't going to lose him.

Shoving the questions to the back of her mind, Sansa swallowed and listened as Dr. Luwin told them more about Legionnaires' Disease, and how Petyr had contracted it. Her heart sank further as she remembered wiping out on the jet ski, only a few days ago, when she'd misjudged a three-sixty.

It was her fault.

Petyr could die, all because she'd been careless.

The guilt was overwhelming. Suffocating. Flooding through her mind, and overtaking nearly everything, only her worry over Petyr's survival paramount above it, sailing above the turmoil.

"It must have happened when we wiped out on the jet ski," she said, voice numb, her focus on Petyr's face, and then on their joined hands. Without realizing it, she'd begun to grip Petyr's hand so tightly that her nails were digging into his palm. Horrified, she let go, burying her face in her hands instead. "It's all my fault."

Petyr protested the assertion, as she'd known he would, and Luwin chimed in with words that seemed sensible but did little to assuage the guilt even so. Olenna spoke up as well, and Sansa, realizing that her guilt had turned the focus on herself rather than on Petyr, the patient, pretended to be placated, though inside her mind was still a torrent of emotion, guilt reigning only just below anxiety.

She did her best to remain outwardly positive, if only for Petyr's sake, though she suspected Olenna could tell she was struggling. Petyr probably would have noticed as well, had he been in full health, but he fell asleep not long afterwards, and she was grateful at least that he was getting the rest he needed. Even if it left her alone with her thoughts.

Olenna did give Sansa a long hug after Petyr fell asleep, but remained silent on the matter, clearly sensing that Sansa wouldn't take comfort in anything she had to say in that moment, despite any wisdom her words might impart. Sometimes all the reassurance in the world did little to comfort the mind, and the heart, for wisdom only helps us when we are ready to listen. Sansa wasn't ready. She needed to stew in her guilt for awhile longer, her own personal form of penance, though in truth a part of her knew it was unnecessary.

Still, a much larger part insisted it was, and so she mentally flogged herself until her mind was thoroughly flayed and she was exhausted with the strain of it. Then, and only then, did she reach for her phone and pull up a book to read, to quiet the worry that still needled incessantly, and to soothe the wounds she'd self inflicted.

It was funny, how before now she'd been grateful at least that Petyr getting sick would hopefully show him how much she cared, but now she was starting to realize that it was also showing to  **_herself_ ** how much she cared. Of course, she knew she loved him, so very very much, had known since the night of the charity event, had never doubted it for a second, but somehow that love had grown exponentially deeper, even as she hadn't thought it possible.

Sansa loved him so much that it hurt to even entertain the idea of being without him, even for a second. So much that she finally understood why some people chose to die rather than live on without their love (a la Romeo and Juliet). He completed the song her heart and her soul had always sung, and without him she was certain the music would die, for she would have no reason to sing any longer.

She knew of course that at some point they were like to be parted, in death if nothing else, but if she lost him now, she would never forgive herself.

Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! A new chapter of Heart and Soul comes next Saturday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this ask from tumblr:
> 
> "Could you please give us a sneak peak of what Olenna was thinking while Petyr's diagnosis was going on and how she reacted when they found out the odds Petyr was facing in survival."
> 
> Olenna's POV from chapter 39 of Heart and Soul

**_Be strong._ **

Olenna was no stranger to these two words. They were currently replaying in her mind like a mantra, the repetition keeping her sane, keeping the panic at bay.

Nor was she a stranger to tragedy. It wasn’t so long ago when she’d awoken in her own hospital bed, to learn that she’d lost a son, a husband, and a daughter, all at once. She’d escaped the crash that had been fatal to every other person in the car mostly unscathed but for an enduring hip problem, a few cuts and bruises, and a shattered heart. The shattered heart was in metaphor alone, and yet the pain was unbearable in its strength.

Death was a part of life, and she’d come to know that very well over the years. And yet she’d thought, perhaps naively, that she’d already had more than her fair share of loss, that she’d be spared of losing yet another loved one. 

But there was that word again. Fatality. It was haunting her. 

She wouldn’t lose anyone else. She  **_couldn’t_ ** lose anyone else.

Not her little mockingbird.

**_Be strong._ **

Olenna took a deep breath and pulled herself together, maintaining almost perfect composure but for the whitening of her knuckles as she gripped her cane. She asked the questions that needed to be asked, and comforted Sansa when the poor girl nearly fell apart upon hearing how Petyr had contracted Legionnaires. And she carried on, keeping her tone light, providing the banter that would hold her little family together and keep the anxiety and fear at bay. Pretending that the situation wasn’t nearly as dire as she felt it in her heart to be. For Petyr, who didn’t need people panicking when he needed the strength to pull through this. For Sansa, who was wallowing in guilt and trying her best to put on a brave face for Petyr’s sake as well. And for Varys, who outwardly seemed perfectly fine, at least to those who didn’t know him well, but inside was struggling to come to terms with the news.

A one in ten chance that Petyr might not survive. 

Her sweet little mockingbird, whom she’d almost lost once already.

**_Be strong._ **


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this anonymous ask from tumblr:
> 
> 'Can we please have an insight from Olenna of the time Petyr called her mom when he was sick? That was so incredibly cute!'
> 
> Olenna's POV from chapter 41 of Heart and Soul

"Mom?" Petyr asked.

It was a word she rarely heard anymore. Though all of her children had used it frequently growing up, both Petyr and Varys had switched to referring to her as Olenna more often than not as they reached adulthood. Mace had always called her mom, whatever his age, but she'd long since buried her sweet boy, and so she hadn't been gifted with the word from his lips in years.

She didn't mind what her children called her (so long as it wasn't the Queen of Thorns, which Varys and Petyr had teasingly called her in their youth), but hearing herself referred to as 'mom' never failed to bring a smile to her lips.

It did so then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <333


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this anonymous ask on tumblr: 
> 
> 'Can we please have a PoV of Varys when Petyr was discharged? And how the gang got him home?'
> 
> Varys' POV,, set in chapter 40 of Heart and Soul, time wise. Includes stuff glossed over in the fic.

Varys and Olenna were quiet as they made their way back to his car, each lost in their own internal musings. A side glance at his mother told him that Olenna was pleased with how things had progressed, the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. He was pleased as well. Really, he should have known Petyr would be strong enough,  ** _stubborn_** enough, to turn his health around quickly enough to only have to stay overnight in the hospital.   
  
Not to mention, the fact that Petyr had been confined to bed, without anything to do other than rest, watch television, and talk, had probably had a great to do with his quick recovery. Petyr never did get enough rest, had kept working even though he could barely function, and that alone had likely weakened his immune system to such a degree that he'd landed himself in the hospital. If only his brother wasn't so insistent that sickness never slow him down, they might have avoided this whole ordeal in the first place.   
  
Regardless, Varys was grateful. Grateful that Petyr was at least well enough to be discharged and recover in his own home. Grateful that Dr. Luwin seemed fairly confident that Petyr would make a full recovery (so long as he followed the instructions they'd sent him home with, which Varys knew Olenna and Sansa would be diligent about, even if Petyr wouldn't be).   
  
And, he wouldn't lie, grateful too that he'd get to spend the next few days (at the very least) in an apartment that was solely his again. He loved his mother. And Sansa was a sweet girl. But he missed having his apartment all to himself. He had never been someone who needed constant social interaction; in fact, he often craved the peace and quiet solitude afforded. Living with two other people had robbed him of that more often than not as of late. Now only his bedroom and two other rooms (one where he kept his various costumes for his drag shows, and another where he practiced his performances) were solely his. The rest of the apartment was now either communal or designated for Olenna or Sansa.   
  
Of course, Right and Left would still be in the apartment with him, but he supposed he would take what he could get.   
  
They made it to the car and Varys pulled it around to the designated entrance to wait for Sansa and Petyr. Olenna was still unusually quiet, but Varys supposed that his mother had a lot on her mind. It can't have been easy for her, seeing Petyr so sick. Especially considering how she'd already experienced far too much loss. They all had.   
  
And Varys thought too that his mother might have something else occupying her thoughts. He hadn't failed to notice the way Dr. Luwin kept smiling at her. And the way she sometimes smiled back.   
  
Varys might not be interested in romance himself, or really understand it, but he could see the signs well enough. He wondered if anything would come of it, or if it was simply a passing flirtation. Olenna hadn't dated anyone since she'd lost Luthor, and that had been so many years ago. Perhaps it was finally the right time.....   
  
Through the window, Varys watched as a nurse pushed his brother outside in one of the hospital owned wheelchairs. Petyr looked disgruntled at having been subjected to hospital policy, but Varys could tell his brother had given in because he'd had no other choice in the matter; Petyr was simply too weak to walk the distance on his own. Varys fought back a surge of alarm at how pale Petyr looked in the weak morning sunlight, and carefully settled his expression into one of unconcern as he got out of the car to help.   
  
It was telling indeed that Petyr didn't even protest as Varys helped him into the car, not even one word escaping his lips, his breath conserved instead for the effort it took him. Varys chose not to say anything either, knowing that anything he said might prompt Petyr to expend energy on forming a witty reply, and that it was kinder not to force him to keep up appearances.   
  
None of them spoke as Varys drove to Petyr's apartment, all too exhausted or full of mind, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Rather it was a shared consensus that nothing needed saying in that moment, that there was time enough now for talk later, and they all knew it. When they arrived, Varys went unasked to Petyr's side as he struggled to get out of the car (the idiot had opened his car door on his own rather than wait), and Varys saw the reluctance warring with relief in Petyr's eyes as he gave in and accepted Varys' help.   
  
The trip to the elevator was slow going, but finally they were inside, rising quickly to Petyr's penthouse apartment. Petyr sagged against Varys, his breaths harsh, and by the time the doors opened, Varys was the only thing keeping Petyr standing upright. Sansa quickly darted out to unlock the door for them as Varys practically carried Petyr into the apartment. They didn't get far before Varys decided that though Petyr wasn't asking for one, his brother needed a rest, and Varys stopped and helped Petyr into a chair, waiting until Petyr had finally caught his breath before assisting him the rest of the way and into the master bedroom.   
  
Once there, Varys and Olenna left Sansa to fuss over Petyr while they returned to the car. They had several prescriptions to fill for Petyr, none of which could wait, and Olenna still had to pack her bag for her stay at Petyr's apartment. Varys was slightly winded from helping Petyr (he was a slight man, but still heavier than Varys could easily manage across such distance. And, alright, Varys wasn't exactly in the best of shape. He could admit that. To himself, at least), so he didn't speak until he was back inside the car, his breath finally caught. The long silence between him and Olenna was starting to encourage discomfort rather than peace, giving too much space for thoughts he didn't want to entertain. He wanted a distraction.   
  
Not to mention, repressing his usual flippant marks for so long was starting to take its toll. He **_needed_ ** an outlet.   
  
"You sure you're going to be able to stand living there, even for only a few days?" he asked.   
  
"Why? You going to miss your dear old mother?" Olenna asked, raising her eyebrows.   
  
"Believe me, I'm looking forward to the opportunity to miss you," Varys replied, backing his car out of the space and heading for the exit. "I only meant that it's one thing to deal with Petyr on his own, and quite another to deal with him when Sansa's around. Those two can't seem to keep their hands to themselves."   
  
"Oh, they're not that bad," Olenna said dismissively.   
  
"They're nauseating," Varys shot back.   
  
Olenna snorted. "Only when they think they're alone. Other than that it's actually kind of sweet. She brings out the best in him, that's for sure."   
  
"True," Varys agreed. "Still, best make sure to knock or announce your presence whenever you're entering another room. Else you'll get an eye full."   
  
"I doubt he'll be able to do anything more than smirk at her, for a few days at least. He's still very sick."   
  
Varys shrugged. "If you want to risk it. Personally, I wouldn't." He paused. "And I'll bet he's back to his usual self in a day or two, anyway."   
  
Olenna sighed. "I hope so."   


* * *

  
  
When Varys returned to his home later that night (Olenna and Sansa comfortably settled in at Petyr's, and Petyr himself well tended to by both), pouring himself a glass of sherry and settling onto the couch to watch what **_he_** wanted for a change, he found the silence, normally so comforting, oddly unnerving. It was strange, but for the first time in years, he suddenly felt lonely.   
  
Perhaps he'd visit Petyr, Sansa, and Olenna sooner rather than later. Maybe even tomorrow. His brother was sick, after all. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary to want to see him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <333333333


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this anonymous ask on tumblr:
> 
> "Can we have a snippet of Olenna's thoughts from when they meet the Starks in ❤&

_**Varys:** _

Varys had a natural propensity for drama. He’d long ago discovered the thrill of watching the lives of others unfolding around him, storing secrets both mundane and tantalizing for his own perusal later. As a boy, he’d been an outlier at the orphanage, too strange to be befriended. But he’d liked it, that way.

He’d never craved socialization like the other children. He was content to merely observe, to catalogue their behavior in his mind. Later, he began to use certain secrets to his advantage, even as he adapted to a loving family, complete with siblings. The right secret, he found, could often spell the difference between success or failure, joy or despair. He watched everyone around him and kept or released their secrets at his pleasure, either simply for enjoyment or for some other agenda.

As he grew older, he grew more discriminatory in what secrets he used to his own advantage. He loved his family, and had no desire to hurt them. The greatest of their secrets lay encapsulated into a vault, only to be freed in the direst of need, or if he’d grown careless in a moment of callous retaliation. 

Instead, Varys moved on to the secrets of others, to those whose secrets he was under no obligation to keep. To those who, in part, he felt deserved to have their skeletons laid bare, for all the world to see. He made a name for himself, as the host of the premier gossip radio show in New York City, and people feared being caught in The Web of the Spyder. The downtrodden loved him, were in fact the sources of much he’d revealed on his show, and the elite, well they reviled him. At least, those whose secrets were less than flattering, or even downright scandalous.

Varys didn’t mind their hatred. He didn’t want to be loved. Not by them. And those secrets he revealed? Well they saved lives, sometimes.

He loved drama. It paid the bills. And certainly made for marvelous entertainment.

But as for drama in his own family? That was different. Sure, he wasn’t above stirring up trouble. Mainly for Petyr, who always gave as good as he got. 

But Varys rather preferred his own life to be, on the whole, quiet. In part because he truly didn’t wish to see his loved ones in pain - he’d seen quite enough of that, over the years, what with the loss of Luthor, Mace, and Alerie, and what happened between Petyr, Ned Stark, and the Tullys. No, Varys liked to see those around him happy, and for the drama never to reach that particular level where all the joy in his life seemed to be stolen.

Drama was always well and good, when it wasn’t happening to you personally. Or to those you loved.

So it was with great trepidation that Varys headed down to his car that afternoon, Olenna by his side. The Starks were in the city for Christmas, and Sansa had planned for everyone to meet up for lunch today, a joining of the two families she’d come to call her own. Varys was happy to oblige her wishes (not that he’d had much of a choice. Olenna wouldn’t have allowed him to sit the lunch out, unfortunately). Sansa was a sweet girl, and she made Petyr happy, and Varys liked her well enough. But he felt she was being a bit overly optimistic. Perhaps even a bit naive.

Olenna hadn’t deigned to be in the presence of any of the Tullys for years. She’d cold shouldered Catelyn and Hoster and Edmure (who had once been great friends with Mace, a friendship that had quickly fizzled, as Mace chose to support his brother), and even Brynden, though she’d always favored him before. As for Lysa, well, none of them had known what she’d done until after she’d lost the baby and Petyr had divorced her. Petyr hadn’t told them until months later, and even that revelation hadn’t come willingly. When Olenna had found out the truth, her rage was even more terrible to behold, and what had once been a thick wall of ice had melted in the flames of her rancor. Not one member of the Tully family was spared, with Lysa and Catelyn receiving the brunt of it.

It had been brutal, and well deserved, mainly on Lysa’s part. Cat apparently hadn’t known, though she’d still contributed to their pain all the same.

Still, Olenna hadn’t even begun to forgive anyone involved, even all these years later. Lysa would of course, never be forgiven, but for once she wasn’t the source of Varys’ trepidation, as she wouldn’t be at the lunch, or celebrating Christmas with them at all (thanks to her husband, Jon Arryn, and a very restrictive restraining order). 

But even without her, Varys had plenty of cause for concern. His mother was very protective of her own, and slow to forgive those who wronged them. And, from what Petyr had told Varys, Ned Stark was still very much a hothead.

It wasn’t going to be pretty. Even if they managed to make it through lunch somewhat civilly, there was still Christmas Eve and Day yet to get through. Varys didn’t think his mother could hold back her blunt tongue for long, especially if Ned and Cat didn’t seem reticent in the slightest. He’d pity them, if he wasn’t still angry at them himself.

Instead, he reserved that pity for Petyr and Sansa. They were practically a modern day Romeo and Juliet (oh, how Varys hated that play. He loved Shakespeare, but he really loathed that particular tale), two lovers with warring families. Varys hoped that this story, at least, wouldn’t end up with the lovers committing suicide. Though he supposed he wouldn’t put it past either of them - they were just in love enough and stupid enough because of it to do something like that. Love seemed to rob even the cleverest of men and women of their senses. 

Varys didn’t understand it, and would have no part of it, for himself.

 

Let the world go mad. And he’d watch. And hope that those he loved were spared of its worst.

 

* * *

 

_**Olenna:** _

Olenna wasn’t used to holding her tongue. She’d always been open and upfront with anyone she spoke with, whenever possible. Tempering her words if needed, depending on the person or the situation. But if she was angry with someone, or proud, or anything of the sort, she let it be known. Always.

Not so, today. She was still very, very angry, even with years to heal the wound. It wouldn’t heal, not when she kept picking at it, but she couldn’t help it. Cat and her then fiance had hurt her little mockingbird. A boy who’d already seen far too much tragedy in his short life.

But she mustn’t let it show. She needed to keep the peace. For Sansa’s sake. And Petyr’s. Their happiness was everything to Olenna. She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. 

And if Petyr had found a way to get past it, to make it work, then so would Olenna.

She could do this for him. For her little mockingbird.

About two hours for lunch, and then she could have a break to release her frustrations before she was in their company once more. 

She  **_could_ ** do this.

Oh, but could and should, they were so much easier said than done. 

 

* * *

 

Olenna was kind to their kids. The sins of their parents didn’t rest on their shoulders. They were blameless of that past, and until the Stark children gave her a reason not to, Olenna would give their characters the benefit of the doubt. All in all, Sansa’s siblings seemed a good lot, if a bit rowdy.

She found it easiest to keep conversation to a minimum where Cat and Ned were concerned. The less she was required to say to them, the less likely she was to let her words or tone slip. 

Still, a walk back into the past on Cat’s part, and Olenna couldn’t succeed in keeping the ice from her tone. How dare she speak of the past with such fondness? How dare she express her condolences when she herself had caused Olenna’s family such pain?

To Cat’s credit, she didn’t rise to the bait. In fact, she almost looked ashamed, wilting beneath the force of Olenna’s words.

Olenna watched her carefully after that, noting the timidity with which Cat often spoke, particularly when addressing anyone outside of her own family. Cat had never been particularly outspoken as a child, but neither had she been softspoken, of a more middling temperament and manner. The regret in her eyes, and in her tone of voice, was clear as day. 

As for Ned Stark, he said little except during stories of Sansa’s childhood, when he seemed to come alive, expression wistful. It was clear he loved his children, and that he was doing his best to remain respectful during lunch, carefully avoiding broaching any sensitive topic. Save for their introduction, Olenna and he never exchanged words nor glances. He seemed to prefer looking anywhere but her way.

Neither had forgotten their roles in Petyr’s life, nor were they complacent with them. And both were making a clear effort to keep the peace, for their daughter’s sake at the very least.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The sun shone through the clouds. And the thaw began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting. Been busy. Hope you liked it!
> 
> Also, concerning Varys' thoughts on suicide, I don't mean to belittle anyone's pain. They are not my own thoughts (although I do hate Romeo and Juliet....). I don't personally understand suicide (having never been suicidal, thankfully) but I know you have to be in a lot of pain to consider something like that. My characters' thoughts are not my own.


End file.
